


It's a gift, you keep those

by spnsmile



Series: Destiel Prompt August Collection 2020 [4]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angel Castiel (Supernatural), Boys In Love, Castiel Loves Dean Winchester, Castiel and Dean Winchester Have a Profound Bond, Castiel and Dean Winchester are Saps, Castiel in the Men of Letters Bunker (Supernatural), Dean Winchester Needs Castiel, Domestic Castiel/Dean Winchester, Domestic Fluff, Dorks in Love, Established Castiel/Dean Winchester, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Happy, Humor, Idiots in Love, Kissing, Love, M/M, Sam Winchester Ships Castiel/Dean Winchester, Short, Short & Sweet, Short One Shot, Some Humor, Talking, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Toys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-05
Updated: 2020-08-05
Packaged: 2021-03-05 22:22:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,788
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25732789
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spnsmile/pseuds/spnsmile
Summary: Castiel receives another gift from Dean <3art from gabester-sketch with love from patreon~
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Series: Destiel Prompt August Collection 2020 [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1860856
Comments: 12
Kudos: 106
Collections: Writer's Month 2020





	It's a gift, you keep those

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Writer's Month Day 4 prompt: Long Distance Relationship
> 
> enjoy~ and thanks for @gabester-sketch for being so awesome with all the downpour of gifts! Follow her on patreon~

[ ](https://gabester-sketch.tumblr.com/)

Unbeknown to the Winchesters, Castiel sometimes refers to the Bunker as the ultimate _rabbit hole,_ a concept he’d gotten from a classic children’s book no thanks to Metatron’s tinkering of his head, where opening metal door leads to a different story— where one second, it’s peace and quiet with books and burgers, the next there are rifts, and archangels, souls stuck on walls, a troop of humans operating headquarters, manic prophets—certainly the most exciting things happen to Sam and Dean, the magnets of things _Supernatural_ including him.

With that, Castiel also learned to expect the unexpected, so when he comes home after a long time’s absence, he braces himself upon opening the familiar scraping metal door leading to the Winchesters.

“Hey, Cas? You’re back. Look what I got here,” Castiel sees a flash of black and brown and Dean’s flashing smile.

He doesn’t expect to be greeted by a cheerful Dean in red flannel, handsome in all respect from enviable green eyes to his tousled light brown hair, his snow-scattered freckles— not to mention topnotch hunting skills—an irony to the world-class hunter now holding a doll to his face—

Dean vibrates with glee, wriggling the object no bigger than his palm, strangely proportioned for a figure but with obvious head and button eyes.

Castiel squints so hard, dumbstruck.

“What—?”

“He got it from _Hot Topical,”_ Sam supplies from across the table an apologetic expression on his face as he leans elbows on the table in front of the laptop.

“It’s not like I was searching for it,” Dean glares at his brother, “It was just there—"

“You went to Hot Topical?” as far as he knows, Dean’s not a big fan—not since the last time they went there together with Dean snorting at all the chick stuff—that was until he saw the grumpy cat and told the angel it looked like Claire.

He sees Sam glance up with a curious smirk on his face.

“Yeah, what were you doing at Hot Topical, Dean?” he presses with interest. “When you could’ve just gotten them delivered?”

“Hunters don’t get delivery,” Dean barks, rolling his eyes like nothing can spoil his day, but Castiel’s already eyeing the figure on Dean’s other hand—a figure with uncanny semblance to his friend holding a knife—that’s all Castiel needs really. His eyes revert back to the other one with _wings_ which means—

“I don’t understand, is this supposed to be me?” he stares at the beetle-black eyed little figure Dean is still holding for him to see.

“Yes, you, it’s you. Ain’t he cute?” Dean chortles, back to being giddy, while Castiel takes the figure him not understanding the hunter’s enthusiasm. “Apparently, it comes in pair,” Dean says with some effect. “Remember Chuck Shurley’s novel? Well, they made a film about it and must’ve been a hit because now they’re making em’ funko pops.”

“Funko- what?”

“Bet you don’t have that in Enochian?”

Dean giggled, shifting his weight with smile wide and Castiel recognizes that vibe. The _Dean mood_ — the man’s obsessions of both classic and pop culture bordering to alarming when it comes to his taste of the western rodeo. Not to mention his strange fondness of cartoons and talking dogs, but today certainly reached new heights. Dean can get easily carried away, yet such knowledge still couldn’t have prepared Castiel from Dean’s new mania.

Making Castiel feel helpless and clueless to what Dean is talking about when he takes the winged doll.

“Dean—why do you have this—?”

“I know! And they came in _pair!”_

Sam snorts. “Yes, Dean. We’re happy you found the _Tweedledee_ to your _Tweedledum_ ,” Sam catches Castiel’s gaze who stares for a long while then—

“I understand that reference—but that’s incorrect. They are twins and don’t describe my relationship with your brother. We’re not, we’re in a more intimate relationship.”

Sam makes a face while Dean blushes. “Yes, I know, Cas.”

“But where is your figure, Sam?”

“Thank you, but only Dean gets excited to get a display of himself and his boyfriend and then _play_ with his toys.” Sam chuckles.

“Dean, you like toys?” Castiel inquires, but that’s obvious now.

Dean shakes his head— notices Dean’s jaw drops open and close as if trying to chew his words. Castiel blinks down the doll. 

“Oh, he’s got other toys.” Sam screws his face like the knowledge pained him to some level.

“Shut up, Sam!” Dean hollers at his brother.

“I don’t like the color of its eyes.” Castiel observes, “It makes me look like a demon.”

“Yeah, so it doesn’t have your pretty eyes—but, I mean, come on—look, it even got you little tie!” he shines when he smiles.

“Dean, I’m not a toy.”

“Not what happened when you annoyed that antichrist,”

“I did not enjoy being a toy last time,” Castiel spells out with gritted teeth at the reminder, frowning at his overzealous friend, “I am not enjoying it now.”

“Hey now, if you don’t start acting nice, I’m not giving you one.”

“Why would I want one?”

“Of course, you want one.”

“I don’t.”

“Well… you know…that,” Dean double glances at him like he didn’t hear right, his body language too unsteady for Castiel to read, “You—you don’t want one?”

Castiel shakes his head. He wants to point out that he is a _celestial being whose already thousands old_ but something on Dean’s face made him stop.

Dean tries to snatch the angel figure from Cas’ hand, but the actual angel acts on instinct. Holding fast, the two of them engage in a tug of war—or at least Dean doing his best to pull the figure clasped securely in the angel’s unbending hand. Dean growls.

“What are you doing? You said you didn’t want it, give it here.”

“Do we need to talk about this, Dean?”

“No, gimme Cas!”

“I am Cas.” He blinks—is Dean going to give the toy the shortened version of his name now? “I’m _Castiel_.”

“Give it to him Cas, he likes that _Cas_ a lot. Talks to it sometimes.” Sam sighs, pushing away from his laptop as Castiel gapes at him. “Let the man play with himself—"

 _“I’m not—”_ Dean’s whole face reddens, freckles a highlight.

Castiel frowns, feeling rather offended. “Dean, stop playing with yourself.”

 _“That does not mean what you think it means!”_ Dean flushes.

“You don’t need this.”

“Oh, no! I get to decide what I need and I don’t need and I say _I need it_!”

“Why?”

_“Because you’re always out of the Bunker!”_

The silence that followed is awkward—at least as how the angel understood the way Dean drops his hands to his side and avoids his gaze. Sam presses his lips like a bolt of lightning just struck the room and his not wrong. Dean’s voice sounded upset and frustrated just now, yet sad at the same time, making Castiel gaze at his charge for a while.

“Dean—"

“Forget it!” Dean growls and storms out of the room. Even Sam looks a bit surprised but he’s over it in a second and already assuring Castiel quietly.

“He’s just upset you’ve been out a long time. Long-distance really isn’t his thing. Don’t worry, he’ll get over it soon.”

The angel stays planted on the spot for some time, staring at where Dean’s back disappeared, feeling disappointed _._ It’s unusual for Dean to get mad about objects…

_Untrue._

If there’s anyone who puts so much thoughts and feelings into objects treating it like a sacred memento, it’s Dean. From cars to a necklace to photographs, even unused Purgatory weapons… left behind trench coats…

 _It’s all we got to remind us of those who left us…_ Dean once said.

He places the toy carefully on the table then tuck both hands in his coat pocket, still staring at it. Dean can go get it if he really wants, Castiel doesn’t really mind. He rather Dean sitting here than the toy though.

* * *

_“You lookin pretty lonely there, buddy.”_

Castiel stares up from the coffee mug he made himself in the kitchen sometime later. Dean has not shown himself the entire morning which doesn’t add to the angel’s mood because he’s been out of the Bunker for more than two weeks and he returns to find Dean not speaking to him again. He’s scowling at the angel funko on the table so hard, trying to understand why Dean would give it so much thought when Dean’s voice invades his ears.

He pauses.

Dean told him many times to turn off his angel hearing senses when in the Bunker for the sake of privacy. He’s tried, but sometimes his instincts prove harder to control, and from time to time he would find himself listening to the sound Dean makes in his room—just to make sure that Dean is there, that Dean is okay.

_“Mind if I grab you— yeah, come here you unlucky bastard.”_

Who was Dean talking to?

He heightens his angelic sense, trying to feel any other supernatural being in the vicinity that escaped his radar.

There’s none.

Blinking to himself, he cranes his ears to listen to Dean’s room.

He hears fabrics scrapping on fabrics, the way Dean’s breath catches as he does something straining—then the spring of the bed bouncing when the man seems to finally lie down, breath easing into something more relaxed.

_“Nothing’s changed for you, huh? Alone then, alone now? Got your Cas snatched from you, huh? That was very cruel, I know…”_

Castiel’s eyes fall on his own version of toy with knitted brows.

_Dean’s talking to… the toy?_

Castiel is stumped. Dean never ceases to surprise him even after many years of being together, but then, this is the guy who caresses his impala murmuring praises and love…

_“I mean if it was me, I’d fight anyone. No one takes our Cas, right?”_

Castiel sits up straight just as Sam steps in the kitchen.

“Cas? Something wrong?”

Castiel shakes his head, his ears attentive to everything Dean is saying. He knows Dean will get angry about it later if he finds out, but he can’t stop listening, he can’t.

_“I know buddy, you do too, huh? What do we do when our Cas get snatched under our nose? We fight right? Yeah, figures a lot, you miss your Cas? But turns out your Cas doesn’t miss you so—you lose.”_

Castiel freezes.

“ _Who’re we kidding? Our angels don’t need us—"_

Castiel hears something hard hit the wall—just knew Dean probably threw something that hit a plastic bottom of the floor with a thunk—

Sam jumps in surprise when Castiel stands up abruptly but he has no time to answer Sam’s inquisitive question. Castiel snatches fun-something-toy and heads straight to the corridor towards Dean’s room.

He knocks fast on Dean’s door. Hears short silence follow it, then the sound of the bed creaking. Dean’s light footsteps as he walked the floor barefooted, then there’s a crack on the door.

Dean stares at him sullenly. “What?”

Castiel offers him the angel figure.

Dean’s eyes linger on it then slowly takes it with his hand, door opening wider that gets Castiel sighing. Dean opens the door for him. He always does.

The angel waits till Dean’s rubbing the side of the toy’s head with a small smile.

“Came back again, buddy?”

“Where’s yours?” he asks as Dean moves back in the room, leaving Castiel to follow. He did, blue eyes scanning the floor for any sign of the figure but failing to find anything. “Dean?”

“Right where it belongs,” Dean doesn’t look him in the eyes but the gesture of his head inclining to the corner has Castiel walking to the trash can and picking up Dean’s toy.

He glances at Dean inquiringly who finally smirks when he sees the figure in Cas’ hand.

“Will you look at that? Got saved from Perdition, again.” He slumps at the edge of his bed quietly.

Castiel watches the figure grow somber before he sits down beside Dean, the room falling into serene silence, the two of them sitting with shoulders pressed, hands both holding their tiny counterparts.

Castiel listens to the calm drum of Dean’s heart. It's been awhile. Two weeks doesn't really seem too long-term not for an angel. But he finds himself sitting closer to the hunter. 

“Why did you buy this, Dean?”

“It’s nothing, you’re right. It’s something childish.” Dean wrinkles his nose.

“No,” Castiel rubs both his thumbs over the Dean figure, beetle black eyes still a little disconcerting, “I think… you’re not telling me something important.” He finally turns his head to peer at the hunter, “What is it? Why did you ask me if I want one? Did you want me to have one?”

Dean doesn’t answer for a moment, Castiel gets lost the way Dean’s long lashes dip down his cheeks, crinkle appearing at the corner of his eyes when he smiles.

“I wanted to give you the Dean me, okay? But it’s okay if you don’t want it, it’s fine.”

“I want it,” Castiel says quietly. “I’m sorry, but I want it.”

“Oh,” Dean swallows hard, then laughs nervously, “Dude, stop making me feel like a girl.”

But Castiel can tell he’s very pleased when their eyes lock. Something hit his gut. Dean shouldn't have to feel awful for caring. He doesn’t look away now that Dean’s finally staring his way too.

“So I can keep this Dean one? Is this supposed to be my Dean's support while I’m away from you?”

“Yeah, it’s a gift, idiot. You happy?” Dean rolls his eyes. “It’s because you’re always out there driving away, driving so far like you can’t… you don’t imagine staying in the Bunker.” Dean’s voice lowers, “I mean, yeah, I get it, it’s a far shot from how your heaven must look like… and I get it, you miss flying around with your wings and all so of course, you can’t stay in this dump…It isn’t exactly always cloud 9 here too, and since you’re always so far I… you know, get you to keep that toy at least. So, you’re not alone in the long drive.”

Castiel blinks at the figure this time, completely unprepared for what it truly is. Dean is giving him another gift—another when there’s already too much— something lights up in his chest and burns at the same time.

Finger clasping the Dean figure tight, he exhales to let the sudden explosion in his chest. He feels Dean's shift in his position, essentially facing him but he can’t look at Dean. He’s too overwhelmed.

“You okay? Cas?”

“You always give me gifts…you…” Castiel whispers, blinking fast at the toy in his hand, “you’ve given me everything, a house, a family, a home, and I…”

“Hey, don’t go crying on me now, it’s just a toy!”

_“It’s not.”_

“Shit, we’ve turned into saps.”

“I love it.” Castiel murmurs, holding the Dean close to his chest and leaning hard to Dean’s warm, solid shoulder. “I love Dean.”

Dean presses back, sliding an arm around his back and gathering Castiel close with his lips pressing on the side of the angel’s head.

“Doesn’t matter if it’s the toy or me, cause it’s _me_.”

“It’s you. Always just you.”

They stay like that, close and warm until Dean tackles him on the bed to kiss him senseless. One of the things Castiel goes home and looks forward to, really. There’s plenty of scrambling and growling on the bed that night, dolls on the floor sitting above the trench coat side by side.

When Sam finds them that morning on the kitchen table, both holding their funko pops, kissing lightly the same way the toys’ faces are pressed, Sam yawns at them and proceeds in making himself a coffee. He walks away in the same indifferent manner because he’s seen the worst of it when his brother’s angel is in the Bunker. Well, fuck, as long as his brother’s happy.

And at the back of his mind, Sam thinks they’re adorable too. Those little funkopops. He doesn’t tell Dean he already has his own funko pops of the three of them sitting in the shelf of his room, Cas and Dean cozy together because that’s how things should be—this CasDean—while his Sam drives the impala.

He wonders how Dean would react if he realizes there’s an impala version too? He drinks his coffee and shuts his room close. Somehow, he already has an idea. Better tell Cas so he can go buy it.

Sam grimaces. Just means more profound love in the Bunker.

All’s right in the world.


End file.
